


sinsemilla in my pocket

by micawbish



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micawbish/pseuds/micawbish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just that he gets bored easily and maintaining relationships requires a lot of work and, well, mostly, Jensen is a lazy, lazy stoner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sinsemilla in my pocket

It's pretty accurate to say that Jensen has commitment issues. 

He's never had a fish or plant that's managed to live out their normal life span. He judiciously plucks scarves out of thrift shops that he finesses around his neck lovingly for weeks on end only for them to never be seen from again. He adopted no less than twenty-three strays between the ages of six and twelve, tending to them all carefully for maybe a month each before depositing them in his parents' arms to find them proper homes or else release them back into the wild. He once notoriously found himself in a relationship with four separate people his junior year of college because apparently he'd miss the memo that meeting for coffee with people you let feel you up a little constituted as dating. Live and learn. Needless to say, he's never had a boyfriend he's known about or that didn't live out the duration of their relationship entirely inside his head.

It's just that he gets bored easily and maintaining relationships requires a lot of work and, well, mostly, Jensen is a lazy, lazy stoner. It's not that he hates people or anything, but that he likes himself, smoking by himself, more. It's hard enough to make himself go out and see people, but it's next to impossible for him to keep in touch long distance seeing that he hates social networking sites, continually forgets his email password, and avoids use of the phone outside the utilitarian text like the plague. He's always thought he's someone who's better experienced in person anyway. Which sounds narcissistic, he realizes, but he's found that his face really is a pretty effective diversionary tactic from the thoughtless things that fall out of his mouth. Danneel's always telling him so, anyway.

She's the only friend he sees these days, and she really doesn't count as: a) they live together, b) being with her is mostly like being by himself except she voices the thoughts in his head out loud, and c) it's _Danneel_ , harder to separate from than one of his limbs. His parents are in the picture, but relegated to far background, since they don't exactly approve of his lifestyle choices. Josh has his wife and baby on the way, Mac's racing through classes and boys, he left all his friends back in Dallas, and he works part-time at a coffeeshop that lets him hang his art and which has a constantly revolving door of colorful characters that blink out faster than Jensen can latch onto their names. Seeing as how he was hired himself for the outfit he'd been wearing the day he walked in and applied (he'd been experimenting with kilts), he's not too surprised at the brevity of everyone's tenure there. Jensen's life is mostly full of a vague sea of people that together form overall impressions rather than distinct parts he can separate out. 

Jensen's never really lacked for any key person in his life growing up. He had an older sibling and a younger one, a full set of parents and grandparents, and a number of aunts, uncles, teachers, and friends all showing understandable interest in his life. He did always idly want a twin, though, but then Danneel came along, and he pretty much got that, too. 

There's really only room for one other relationship in his life -- the only one he cares for, anyway, and puts in all the necessary overtures and regular visits and decidedly non-sycophantic flattery, the one that he's ever had his cool mask falter in front of, showing slips of desperation and elation by turn -- and that's the one he has with his dealer. He remembers each and everyone of them fondly, finds them handy as demarcators for the various eras in his life.

::

It had started with Josh. He came home winter break his freshman year somehow infinitely more grown than when he'd left just a few months ago. He looked the same and didn't act much different, but Josh had always been sort of bland before, falling easily within their father's strict lines, and college gave him some heretofore untapped looseness in discovering his own person. Josh had avoided him at first, had seemed elusive and strange, and Jensen was more confused than hurt, since Josh had never once played the too cool for my little bro card. Then one night two weeks after he'd been back, Josh had taken him out driving and after Jensen made perfect circuits around the Safeway parking lot, Josh traded seats with him and lit up one slightly smushed, inexpertly rolled, forever memorable joint. 

That night started a nice sweet ride that lasted two years, before Josh decided on pre-med and started down the life of a respectable adult while Jensen was just fully entering his debauched teenaged years. He's never been so close to Josh before or since, but he always looks back on those few years tucked away in his adolescence fondly, and Josh's old car would become the nostalgic setting of brotherly bonding, long, winding talks, and unselfconscious revelations. 

"You know what this reminds me of?" he'd asked, after he'd stopped coughing.

"What's that?"

"Six Feet Under. That could be us in the future. Siblings who smoke together on special occasions when we're older. It'll take us back here. That'd be nice, you know? Keeping a little of this." He gestures at the space between them and then squints at his brother. "You're kind of like Nate."

"You're totally Claire," Josh says on his exhale.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Except I'm gay like David," he adds, as an afterthought, taking the quickly burning joint and pinching it carefully at the end between his fingers.

And that's how he comes out to his older brother, hotboxing in Josh's '87 grey Nissan Pulsar, Josh nodding knowingly next to him, drumming his thigh as he grins and says, "so, so gay, man."

 

Josh leaves him the rest of the bag full of shake, promising to bring more the next time he's back so long as Jensen doesn't fuck around with school too much, and Jensen promptly goes out and gets Danneel high in her parents' backyard, the two of them squatting under a tree and furtively passing the joint back and forth, the first of countless such nights to come.

Sometime during college, Danneel went through a similar Josh-like transformation into career-minded hypermode, but only scaling back on the weed habit instead of shelving it completely. She'd gotten a job in Chicago straight out of college, and going with her had been a foregone conclusion. And even though these days Jensen's a professional layabout, occasional artist, and damn fine barista while Danneel steadily stalks her way up the corporate ladder, weed still aligns their lives back together. Danneel constantly needs to decompress, and Jensen constantly smokes regardless, so it works out. They smoke and go grocery shopping (losing hours wandering down aisles, looking for impossibly hidden items for new concoctions they're eager to try out); they smoke and go to arthouse flicks or brew and views or various galleries and exhibits (letting slip giggly commentary at inopportune moments and inevitably getting shushed or kicked out); they smoke and go to fancy restaurants and eat decadent foods (courtesy of Danneel's sophisticated palate and generous bonus), then go home to smoke before heading out to bars, striking up conversations with strangers, flirting daringly the way you only can when you never really mean it, and always going home alone to smoke and pass out to some crappy, cam-quality download of the latest blockbuster movie they both refuse to pay money to see. It's crazy, but they're probably some of the hottest celibate people alive, he thinks. Kind of feels like going against the natural laws of the universe or something, and it turns out that apparently the universe agrees.

::

He's wiping down the counter for the third time when Ade runs into the shop. He gives her a pointed look as he reaches over to unhook the low-swinging door, and she skids by him muttering, "sorry, sorry!" as she barrels into the back room. Jensen looks up when the door chimes, fights to control his silly grin, and calls to the back, "Slow down before you hurt yourself! I've got this one."

He pours a large cup, leaving room at the top, and carefully caps it before reaching below the counter for the scone he left wrapped there and pops it in the microwave. Coffee in hand, he turns towards the register and levels a warm smile at one of his favorite customers (Mr. dead sexy, one o'clock, large drip, blackberry scone, fabulous tipper).

"You almost missed me," he chides. "And your blackberry scone. I saved this last one just for you." He acts like a total girl around Jeff, he knows, but god, Jeff is seriously hot. Jensen's usually pretty liberal with his buttery Southern epithets, all ma'ams and sirs, working for tips, and when he sometimes uses the latter reflexively on Jeff, he gets a heated look he feels in his fucking _toes_.

"You're the best, do I tell you that enough? And I'm sorry." He sounds genuinely regretful. "Hate not getting to linger on my breaks here, but work's been crazy today, and I couldn't leave sooner. Glad I still caught you."

"You have my slacker coworker to thank for that or else I would've been gone ten minutes ago." The microwave dings and he gets out the scone, slipping it into a wax sleeve and pushing it across the counter.

"I'll be sure to thank her," Jeff says with a smile, handing Jensen a ten dollar bill for his $4.89 order. His fingers do a brief fluttery dance over Jensen's palm, and his breath catches. He keys in the amount, and Jeff draws back from the counter and busies himself with the creamer and sugar before Jensen can make his awkward but necessary show of returning the change. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Fifteen minutes earlier," Jensen reminds him. 

Jeff chuckles, a warm rumble in his throat. "You got it," he says as he backs his way out the door, eyes on Jensen the entire time. "I want to hear about that commission you're working on next time."

He pockets the five and looks up as Adrianne pushes her way through the revolving door, leaving it propped open, and ties her apron behind her. "So what was it this time?"

"I'm really sorry. It's just this show. God. It is literally haunting me. I'm talking _nightmares_ ," she says as she clocks in. She pulls her hair up in a high ponytail, exposing a flash of bright blue, and fixes her visor on, looking at her reflection in the toaster and pulling some strands out of the way. "Was it bad?" She turns worried eyes on him. 

"Nah, no big. Last half-hour's been pretty dead actually." It's impossible to get mad at Adrianne. She has this unaffected haplessness about her, picture of the scattered artist, and a constant wide smile that never seems to falter or look the slightest bit forced or strained. She has two looks about her at all times -- something reserved and even prim with this splash of artistic color underlaying it, something easily seen in her hair -- gorgeous golden curls that reveal slashes of electric blue peeking underneath in the back when she moves. She's the kind of cute you want to cart around in your pocket, except she's nearly as tall as he is, and towers over him in heels. Ade makes a visual statement, that's for sure. He hears the bell chime and hustles to the back to avoid being pulled into another order, yanking his apron loose.

"At least because of me you didn't miss your boyfriend. How was he?" Adrianne yells back at him.

"Dreamy as ever."

When he walks back out front, wrapping his scarf around his neck and fitting his beanie on, he's surprised to see Jared in the shop.

"Oh, hey. Fancy seeing you here."

"Um, yeah. Guess I'm just missing you?" Jared looks awkward standing there, with his hands jammed in his pockets, and seeming a lot more subdued than he's ever been before, no matter how much he's smoked. In Jensen's experience, Jared does not do mellow ever. 

"I can get you something real quick, no problem." He's a little surprised at himself at the offer. He's been counting down the minutes 'til he could leave for the past hour, and Jensen's not exactly known for going out of his way to be helpful to others. But then again people like Adrianne and Jared manage to radiate this kind of oppressive niceness that demands some measure of reciprocity in return.

"No, don't worry about it, really. Maybe next time if the coffee here's as good as you say. You should go. You look," Jared trails off for a moment, eyes running over him intently. "You look tired, Jensen," he finishes, and they're obviously not the words he means to say the way they come out so haltingly. "I'm sure you had a long morning. I'll catch you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," he mutters, and leaves the shop feeling rattled and irrationally pissed off. He knows he looks like shit after an early morning shift, but it doesn't exactly thrill him that Jared's apparently noticed. Vanity is a terrible thing, he tries to tell himself, as he makes his way home.

::

As a dealer, Jared ranks somewhere in the middle. On the one hand, he never has options, barely knows names, and can't always come through, but on the other hand, he delivers, the unknown stuff he gets still ranges from good to stellar, and he's all around the most accommodating and easy-going guy Jensen's ever met. He always texts back immediately, and unless he's bone dry, he comes exactly when Jensen wants, somehow is never late or flakes (almost unheard of for dealers, at least all the ones he's known), and his visits range from perfunctory drop-offs to surprisingly long hours Jensen spends chattering while Jared drives them around the city, pointing out random sights, whatever Jensen's in the mood for.

 

He meets Jared at some house party that a coworker invites him to. It's held in a loft that's big enough to be a small venue, and he's already met at least eight people who live there, one of whom asked if he'd wanted to move into what Jensen is pretty sure is just a blocked out space bordered on all sides by rickety, tall, unfilled bookcases. He edges around that so-called room carefully and makes sure to give it a wide berth the rest of the night. It really doesn't look stable. The party's a crush of people clustered in the small groupings they came in scattered across two levels. There doesn't seem to be much mingling yet, but it's too crowded to draw any attention to that fact and there's some black and white German expressionist film Jensen half-way recognizes being projected on the one bared wall and art framed everywhere with little signs pointing to rooms filled with crafts on display or in opened plastic boxes. He wonders if this is how the place is always set up, like some interactive exhibition complete with gift shop.

Danneel's been pouring drinks down his throat since they got there, godawful gin and the kind of cheap vodka that will _fuck your shit up_ , and he knows he'll pay for it in the morning, or a few short hours from now. At the moment though, he's reached the point where he can't feel anything, least of all any scrap of good judgment, and there's only one thing on his mind that's needed to elevate his mood.

She takes the empty plastic cup from his hand, crushes it gleefully into the overflowing bin and spins him around from the makeshift bar towards the open space. "Ok, you're cut off. Now go find us some weed, bitch," she says and turns back to her coworkers, who are in the middle of some story about another coworker, momentarily absent, who's fucking their boss.

Jensen knows his mouth is stretched in an unnaturally wide smile, one he vaguely feels and can't control and knows for a fact makes him look all of twelve years old. The crowd here seems far too pretentious to find that particular look endearing, but then he's far too drunk to care and he weaves his way around the crowd, outright asking people whether they can smoke him and his friend out, shameless about immediately moving on if they say no. 

He doesn't know how many people he's gone through, before he gets caught up in Jared's long, flailing limbs, white teeth and braying laugh. At that point of the night, he just really needs to sit down, and Jared's secured himself a nice piece of sofa that Jensen gratefully sinks down upon. Jared keeps stringing him along, texting some friend of his, trying to see if anything might turn up, and they lose god knows how many hours on that couch, Jensen lulled by the familiar twang of Jared's voice before he eventually remembers Danneel, pats Jared's knee absentmindedly, and gets up to look for her.

He wakes up in the middle of the night nearly choking on his own vomit and spends the rest of the weekend hating his life. Three days later he finds the slip of paper in his pocket with Jared's name and number written in blocky print with the note: _Wow, you are so wasted right now. I can hook you up later if you're still looking?_

And that's how, two weeks in, in a brand-new city, Jensen scores his easiest connect, pretty much effortlessly.

But then, that's Jared for you. Seriously, most accommodating guy, ever.

::

"Does it bother you that we don't have any other friends?" 

"We have friends," Jensen says, just to be contrary. 

"We really don't. We have coworkers. Well, _I_ have coworkers, who I can't stand. You have coworker, single, a drug dealer, and an array of older gentlemen that only call on you in your head and are probably actually straight or married, possibly both, and are in reality just really good tippers to their local coffeeshop hot piece of ass."

"I want to disagree with you, but the hotness of this ass really can't be denied."

"I'm being serious."

"What, I'm not enough for you anymore?" he mutters, only half-joking. He doesn't know if or when he'll ever grow out of it, but he's always been a bit jealous of Danneel's attention. He'd never tell her, but he can't help feeling protective since people never appreciate her like he does. He's not the best with people either, but happier for it, and he also usually gets away with his weird undirected sass and jumble of words and that veneer of suitable Southern charm he pulls out on occasion. Danneel, though, god, girl is _tragic_. She means well, but she comes off terribly, and it only gets worse the harder she tries to fight it. She's awkward around girls, and impatient around guys, and it comes off as bitchy standoffishness either way. And it all only makes her try harder.

"Of course it doesn't bother me. This is me we're talking about. People exhaust me."

"Yeah, yeah, you're lazy as fuck. But I could really use a change of pace. Mix things up a little. We've been here almost a half-year now, and we haven't tried anything different since that party."

"A rousing success," he says, patting the bowl he's packing.

"I should've known once you got your weed, you'd never leave the apartment again," Danneel sighs. "But yeah, you did good for us. Meanwhile though, that party only tipped me off early on that I'd hate my coworkers and can never see them in social outside-of-work settings again. Not fun. What about that girl you work with?" Danneel says, and Jensen pauses for a moment, because she sounds weirdly casual the way she only is when she's actively calculating something.

"Adrianne? Yeah, she's pretty cool, but she's useless right now. She's got her showcase coming up next month, and she's been freaking out about it nonstop."

"All the more reason to invite her out for a drink, have her take a load off for a night."

"Isn't that kind of awkward, the three of us?"

"Why don't you ask Jared to come along, too?"

"What? No way. Who invites their dealer to hang out?"

"Whatever. I was joking before. You guys text constantly, and didn't he come to see you at work the other day? I hate to break it to you, but it kind of sounds like he's your friend already."

Jensen thinks back with a grimace. "Yeeeah," he draws out doubtfully. "It was kind of weird. He was probably just in the neighborhood. I don't know, it seemed like he kind of forgot I worked there."

Danneel rolls her eyes. "Honey, I highly doubt that. You said he deejays at that place on Western, right? Why don't we go check him out one night? I could really use a break from work," she says meaningfully.

He knows work's been especially rough on her lately, and he caves readily enough. "We could do that. I'll ask him about it."

He calls Jared instead of sending his usual text, and Jared picks up on the first ring, although it's silent for a moment before he answers roughly, "Hey? Jensen? Sorry, my phone--" he clears his throat. "Anyway! Not important. So, um. The usual?"

"Yeah definitely, but I was also wondering if you've still got that DJ gig?"

"Oh-- uh, yeah! It's going really well actually. They're warming up to me. You thinking of checking it out?"

"Yeah, my roommate's after a night out, something new, and that card you gave me looked pretty good. What nights do you spin again?"

"Every Wednesday right now, but they're thinking of adding on Sunday soon."

"Sounds good, I'll check with Danny. Should work, though."

"Good, great," Jared answers quickly then laughs a bit, helplessly. "I really hope to see you there, Jensen," he says, and the warmth in his voice, the way it lingers around his name, is surprising.

::

"You look like a crazy person," he says, gaping at Danneel. She's changed outfits six times already, and the way she's eying herself critically in the mirror isn't boding well for the sixth look being the last. 

All the office work and monochrome clothes Danneel wears on a daily basis has clearly had a corresponding effect on her weekend and nighttime wardrobe, which recently exploded with colors that she's absolutely appalling at coordinating together. It's seriously getting out of control. She usually still manages to look good, if slightly crazed, although she owes that more to being the kind of hot you really can't fuck up more than any particularly smart fashion choices on her part.

"How do I not own more clothes than this? What the fuck am I spending all the money I'm making on?"

He stares at her and then at the clothes piled high around them. "Ok, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," she says, then ducks her head under her shirt and screams. "Fix me," she says to him pitifully when she reemerges. 

"You look fine, just, you know, what Chanel said. Take one thing off." He eyes her consideringly for a moment before tugging her wide, multi-patterned belt loose. "There, all better. Now let's go."

Danneel and Adrianne really seem to hit it off, which is a little surprising given Danneel's track record with pretty much everyone, but if anyone can ward off awkwardness, it's definitely Ade. They're not exactly excluding him from the conversation, but they're getting to know each other and asking all the usual questions that he already knows the answers to, so he drops back in his seat, letting them chatter over him. When he looks up, he catches Jared's eye from across the room, and Jared sketches a quick wave before turning back to the turntables. Jared looks different tonight. Jensen's only seen him in hoodies and jeans before, but tonight he looks older, sharper, in a fitted short-sleeved checkered polo with matching tie and a trilby containing his wild mop of hair. When he turns his attention back to the girls, they're sharing a look and eying him meaningfully. 

"Why don't you keep Jared company in the booth," Danneel suggests, and Adrianne gives him the kind of smile you'd give a freaking puppy.

"Uh yeah, okay," he mutters, mostly to get away from their weird, mothering looks, but it's not the worst idea he's ever heard, either. He drops by the bar to pick up a couple of beers on his way. Jared beams widely when he spots him, and Jensen raises a bottle, tips it in Jared's direction.

Jared motions him to enter the booth, and he climbs in. 

"Thought you might be thirsty."

"You're a lifesaver. No one ever thinks of the music bitch in the corner."

"Please. I saw the boys and girls lining up out here. All you music people get crazy tail, don't even front."

"You'd think," Jared says, laughing at himself and shrugging. "But I'm living proof saying otherwise."

Jensen plucks at the hole in his jeans, feeling suddenly off-kilter. "It's ok that I'm in here, right?"

"Yeah, it's fine, I can have one other person here, just can't forget the music. Perfect time for a break, though."

Jared turns to face him fully, blocking out the entirety of the club behind him, and Jensen starts to feel claustrophobic. That, or drunker than he'd originally thought. The booth is too small, overwarm, and Jared, man, the guy _looms_. He clears his throat, and searches out Danneel's handy beacon of red hair. He finds it tucked close to Adrianne's blond and blue curls, probably straining close to make out conversation as the club's gotten increasingly louder the later it gets.

Jared follows Jensen's line of sight and knocks their shoulders together lightly. He leans in to ask disbelievingly, "What, is this a set-up?" His face looks amused, and Jensen feels stupid and sluggish for a minute, not quite catching on. His mind churns through the two bowls and four beers he's had, and then he remembers the pointed push of Danneel's fingers at his elbow, Adrianne's encouraging smile, and thinks about the beer he brought for Jared, and how _amused_ Jared seems by it all. Suddenly, he feels like one of the lame groupies he just mentioned, and apparently not one that Jared would seriously consider. And it's not like Jensen's ever thought of Jared that way before either, but somehow he feels bothered all the same.

::

Danneel calls in sick the next morning, and they wake and bake, lounging in their robes, and it feels like old times. Well, it feels like the weekend. 

"Surprised you called in. You're not hungover at all."

"Neither are you," she observes. "It's almost like you're growing up a little bit."

"Funny," he says dryly and flips through the channels looking for a good old-fashioned 90's syndicated sitcom to put as the background to his deep, brunch-centering thoughts.

"So I kind of wanted to talk to you."

Jensen raises his eyebrow and lowers the volume to a dull murmur. "Yeah? What about?"

"Last night." 

They always rehash the few misadventures they have without each other, but last night had seemed pretty tame. "What about it?" he asks, curiously. "You and Ade seemed to get along," he prompts.

"Yeah. Yeah, we did," she says, and she doesn't quite meet his eyes. "It's about her actually. Or, it's about me, but it kind of involves her."

"Ok, you lost me."

"You remember Rocky?"

He lets out a surprised guffaw. "Shit, Rocky. Haven't heard that name in forever. I wonder what she's up to these days. I bet you anything she and that crazy model chick are still together. Their shit was epic." Danneel passes him the bowl, and he takes a generous hit, feels the smoke expand in his lungs, before slowly releasing his breath. "Jaime, that was her name," he says, snapping his fingers at the memory. The Rocky era had been one of the more exciting times in Jensen's life. Before there was Jaime, there'd been Jensen, and he's not too embarrassed to admit that he'd kind of been Rocky's pseudo-girlfriend for a while there for all intents and purposes.

To be fair, Jensen in high school had been the kind of pretty you really couldn't butch up all that much, and he'd had a brief flirtation with cheerleading and a longer one with make-up (just eyeliner, sometimes gloss, and why was it so wrong for guys to wear even a little anyway when girls went out in full face and it made _everyone_ look better?) while Rocky had gone nearly two semesters under the professor's mistaken name of _Raimundo_ in Spanish class. Jensen had been newly cut off from Josh and desperate, and Rocky had been itching for a partner in crime and had already focused her sights on him specifically for a while. Their partnership was more than a little intense and creepy, and Danneel always said she couldn't tell whether Rocky wanted to be him or fuck him. It became increasingly clear over time that Rocky was actually kind of insane and only beginning the rapid spiral into her fast life of crimes getting less petty by the minute. For the better half of a dead year, he had found the slow deterioration of her boundaries thrilling, but in the end, he just wasn't cut out for the drama. It hadn't helped that Danneel had absolutely hated her.

"You fucking hated her," he says.

"Yeah I did, she was a total bitch. But, um, it was also. We kissed."

"You kissed," he repeats, slowly.

"Yeah."

"You _what_?"

"It was just once!" she says quickly. 

"Ok," he says, nodding, the weed already setting in to skim off the outermost layer of shock. "Just to be clear, is this you coming out to me or you telling me that you've been in love with Rocky this entire time, and _that's_ the real reason you don't date? Because if it's the latter, you're never allowed to call me pathetic again, just so you know."

"Fuck you. The first thing. _Obviously_ the first thing, ugh."

"So you're bi," he says. "I'll smoke to that." He raises the bowl in a mock toast.

"I'm thinking gay, maybe, but figuring all that out can come later."

Jensen shakes his head in disbelief. "Man, Danny, how'd you miss this? I'm super gay, shouldn't that have helped you somehow?"

"How is all your talk about how disgusting pussy is ever supposed to have helped me?"'

"Ok, point. But I'm surprised this got by you. I mean, it's you we're talking about. You're not the clueless one here."

"I've also never been the gay one! And I always thought it was hot when you whored yourself out and that's, like, twice the cock right there."

"Fuck, I'm too high to fully express this, but you are blowing my mind right now."

"It's not a total shock, right? I didn't go home with any of those guys we met."

"Well, yeah, but I thought it was because you were too lazy, hateful, or out of it to bother."

"There was that," Danneel concedes, "but the total lack of attraction helped, too."

Jensen sighs. "You realize we'll be totally useless now helping each other out with people. God, _people_. All our pronouns will have to change."

"It's not like we were all that helpful before."

"And this would explain why." He nods thoughtfully. "So, Adrianne--" he says. "I happen to know she's bi, too. I'm guessing that came up?"

"Yeah, she mentioned it, and then I told her I was gay. I don't even know why I said that. It's that fucking hair. It makes me _stupid_. She got really excited," Danneel finishes, glumly.

"Oh, yes, I can see how that'd be terrible for you."

"She says she's sure she's bi, but she's never been with another girl before."

He blinks. "Oh my god, it's like she was made for you."

"You're not getting it. I told her I was all yay, lesbians!, before she started confiding in me about her sexual crisis, and how she's looking for someone to show her the ropes which, uh, hello. I am totally not qualified for."

"So you're going to do what? Come clean and tell her you're not the dyke she's looking for? Turn the six-foot blonde amazon goddess loose on the city's u-hauling lesbians that sure as hell won't be dumb enough to let her go should she approach them asking about their mysterious girl-on-girl ways? Because that makes total sense," he says, nodding.

"I told you, she makes me retarded," Danneel moans, burying her face in her hands.

"Clearly."

She gives him the finger without looking up, then mutters, "Maybe we should go out again."

"That sounds much smarter, yeah."

"We should go out again," she emphasizes.

Jensen stares at her.

"A double date," she continues, slowly brightening. "Group date. I hear that's what they do in Japan."

"And we're co-opting the Japanese way because?"

"Because the girl of my dreams just came out to me and I'm pretty sure on to me, and I completely fucked it up, and now I want to see her again, but with some buffer in the way of my psychotic stalker craziness so that I don't immediately jump her and ruin my one shot at happiness? Is that a good enough reason for you?" 

"I guess," he says, doubtfully, backing away from the crazy eyes. "I'm guessing you already have a date for me in mind?"

"Oh, please."

"What?"

Danneel just looks at him and when his face doesn't change, she reaches over to flick his forehead. " _Jared_ , you moron."

"I guess I could call him. Won't help with the double date vibe you're looking for, though, but if you're just looking for safety in numbers."

She laughs. "What are you talking about? He's practically your boyfriend already."

"What the hell gave you that idea?"

"You guys text each other a million times a day. Which, outside of me, is more communication than you have with the rest of your friends and family combined."

"He's a good texter!" Jensen defends, thinking of Jared's art of crafting daily observational notes that perfectly straddle the line between humorous and cautionary, and Jensen secretly loves that Jared hasn't gone the way of Twitter, that these little anecdotes are exclusives just for him. "And he totally commiserates with my aversion to the telephone and social networking sites, especially facebook. Do you know how rare that is?"

"Are you kidding me? Jared's a total facebook whore. He updates his page, like, twenty times a day! Here, let's see..." she murmurs and pulls her notebook into her lap, quickly loading up the page and signing on. 

"You guys are _facebook friends_?"

"Jared is losing sleep over you (jerk)," she reads out loud. "Updated 13 minutes ago. Boy's got it bad."

"I can't believe you're facebook friends," he says, and then waves the matter irritably aside. First Danneel, and now Jared. Was everyone pairing off? Sure, he wouldn't say no to regular sex, but honestly, he likes the companionship that he and Danneel have going. He always figured they'd go through life as platonic soul-mates with meaningless flings on the side or maybe married to older, understanding men that financed extravagant vacations for the two of them to take together. A dream that's looking less and less likely now.

"Anyway, I don't think of him like that. I mean, yeah, he's hot, but he's not even fictional boyfriend material."

She rolls her eyes. "God, we're both so mentally challenged. He's not fictional boyfriend material, because he's actually _real_ boyfriend material, and somewhere in the back of your foggy smoked up little mind you know it. The fact that he's hot and makes you want to drop to your knees to worship his cock is just a bonus."

"What?" he yelps.

"Oh, was that not what the epic eyefucking was about last night?" she asks innocently.

"There was no eyefucking," he says sternly.

"You were undressing him with your eyes and fucking the shit out of him in that booth up there, which I could see from across the room. Trust me baby, it was epic."

"You're delusional," he dismisses her. "Whatever. It's not like he's even interested."

"Are you kidding me? That boy is absolutely gone over you. You were a hot mess that first night, and he was still looking at you like your lunatic ravings and demands for weed were the most amazing things he'd ever heard in his life." 

Danneel's impossible to convince when she's got her mind set on something, and Jensen's really not up for trying. He doesn't tell her about how Jared laughed when he thought they were being set up on a date. He's mortified at how rejected he feels about the whole non-thing, which is ridiculous. Jensen's never done rejected in his life. He has been, of course, but he's never remotely felt the sting of it that makes it real and he wonders why this time is any different.

::

They decide on going to the public library book fair that weekend, Jensen's choice. The book fairs are always popular and packed with too many people for his liking, but it also combines his favorite things -- books, bargains, and wandering around freely without the pressure to buy or the appearance of loitering. He last saw Danneel and Adrianne huddled together in the GLBT section, while Jared hovers behind him as he browses through the graphic novels.

"They're cute," Jared says, kind of huffs, in his ear, tilting his head in the direction of the girls. He swats the air irritably, ignoring the shiver that runs down his neck. "I thought you said it wasn't a setup last time?"

Jensen looks up, surprised. "You were talking about them?"

"Well, yeah. They had awkward first date written all over them."

Jensen takes a moment to digest this. Apparently, he and Danneel are _really_ slow. They could maybe smoke a little less. Just a little. He can't help the small smile and murmurs, "good," before biting his lip and intently studying the names on the book spines in front of him.

"Wait. Who did you think I was talking about?"

He makes some humming noise as he redoubles his efforts to locate the missing volumes of his _Transmetropolitan_ collection.

"It's not like there was anyone else there." Jared is still going on, and Jensen is mostly successful in ignoring him, except for that small burning part that thinks it's just great that Jensen is so far beneath Jared's radar to even remotely register. Perfect, really.

"I mean, besides us, which would be ridiculous--"

"Yes, yes, absolutely ridiculous," he repeats, nodding. It's awesome to know they're on the same page. Awesome is definitely the word for it.

"--since you already have a boyfriend--"

"Since I already have a-- Wait, what? What boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend."

Jared's face is doing two things at once, but then he scrunches his brows and settles on a decidedly comforting look. "Oh, did you two break up?"

"And I repeat, what boyfriend?"

Jared flushes, and Jensen notes distantly that it's not a bad look on him. At all. "Oh, um, I overheard at the coffeeshop, Adrianne mentioned him?"

It's Jensen's turn to flush as he says, "Ohh. That was just--" he thinks of the words to describe the neuroses behind his imaginary relationships. "It was a joke," he finishes, lamely.

"So. No boyfriend," Jared says, staring hard at the row of books in front of them. 

"Nope," Jensen agrees.

Jared starts inching closer, taking his natural hovering to new levels. Jensen eyes him warily before taking a step away.

"There never was a boyfriend."

"Come on, you know me. Where would I have the energy for a boyfriend? Being Danneel's best friend, roommate and overall life support system is exhausting enough. I'm terminally single. It's one of my defining traits."

"Looks like she'll have someone helping you look after her pretty soon. Should help free up your schedule," Jared points out, and they're doing this weird shuffling dance as Jared keeps inching closer and Jensen sways uneasily away. 

"You're on facebook," he accuses, suddenly.

"I am," Jared agrees, eyes dancing. "Never said I wasn't."

"You encouraged me in my extremely impassioned rants against it and the sheeple that use it."

"You're inspiring when you get going," and the way he drawls out the word inspiring, it's as if Jensen was doing porn or something.

"I view you and Danneel's secret facebook friendship as a betrayal."

"I'm very sorry." Jared's face is the perfect picture of contrition. Jensen's pretty sure he's being made fun of. "Jensen?"

"What?" he answers back, irritably, feeling out of his depth and frankly steamrolled by Jared the fucking _giant_.

"Why was it good? That I was talking about them?"

"You're really paying attention to this conversation," Jensen observes.

"I always pay attention when you talk if you hadn't noticed."

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling unaccountably guilty. "I don't usually," he admits. "I get distracted a lot."

"I know," Jared says, smiling. "I happen to think it's adorable."

He lets out a huff of breath. "Jared, I've gotta tell you, man. It really feels like you're hitting on me here."

"So you _have_ been noticing, thank god. I was getting worried there for a minute." Jared hasn't let up his slow, sure press forward and the next awkward half-step Jensen makes has his side glance against the wall. 

"You're not seriously planning on kissing me here, are you?"

Jared sighs. "Not when you just called me out like that, I'm not."

"Oh," he says, surprised. "Good." That's definitely relief he feels knotting in his stomach. 

"You know, I'm not actually a dealer. I don't sell pot," Jared says, offhand.

"Uh, you do to me."

"You're the only one. I get it from my friend, Chad, who gets it from his guy, and the price gets jacked up at each pass which I don't transfer to you, by the way, so I'm actually losing money every time. If I'm a dealer, I'm a pretty shitty one. Christ, I'm pathetic." He shakes his head, and Jensen clenches his hands into fists so as not to reach over and brush away the strands that fall into his face. "I've never worked so hard, or this slow, for a kiss in my life."

"Huh," he says. Jensen doesn't know what it says about him that guys apparently like to give him five dollar handouts on a routine basis.

"You made it pretty clear you weren't looking to talk to anybody without weed connections that night we met," Jared continues. "And Danneel told me that you don't do boyfriends. Ever. But you do high-contact and dependence relationships with your dealers, and that the transition from one to the other would probably be pretty seamless and the only way it'd ever happen to you."

"Danneel and you--" he trails off, at a complete loss for words.

"Yes, Danneel. Yes, we're facebook friends, and yes, we talk about you. Man, she wasn't kidding when she said you move at glacial speed. So you know what?" He takes one final step and backs Jensen into the wall completely. "Let me just speed things up here." And then Jared leans in, one large hand cupping the back of Jensen's head and the other curving gently around his jaw, and then he slots their mouths together, getting the angle just right.

At the press of their lips, Jensen's eyes fall closed, and his head thuds back against the wall, firmly sandwiched between it and the hard pressure of Jared's thigh rubbing up purposefully between his legs. He gasps at the sensation, and when Jared kisses into his open mouth, all rational thought completely leaves him. His hands grasp at Jared's shoulders and he shifts his hips, rolling against Jared's hard thigh helplessly.

Jared pulls back, breathing heavily. "Fuck," he groans. "We need to get out of here. I'd rather not kick off our relationship with indecent exposure."

He ignores the way his chest clenches worryingly at the word relationship and the ease with which Jared uses it, touching his lips in a daze. They already feel tender and swollen, thoroughly used.

Jared stares at him, then quickly brushes another kiss across his lips, as if he can't help himself. 

He feels himself tipping forward, and tries to steady his breathing. "I thought you said you moved slow."

"Not by choice," he says, his voice pinched. "And Jensen, it's, um, it's been a pretty long time for me."

"Please. There's no way that it hasn't been even longer for me. The first time's bound to be embarrassing, let's not fool ourselves here."

Jared's eyes flash at him playfully. "All the more reason to get it out of the way."

Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, ignoring Jared's muffled curse. "Oh, _god_. You orchestrated this whole cheesy seduction from the beginning, didn't you? And the embarrassing thing is that it's _working_."

"Don't act like you're above this."

"I'm really not," he says.

Jared leans in to kiss him one more time, hands tugging at his waist before they drift southward and settle firmly on his ass, pulling him in so there's no space between their bodies at all.

"My place," he says, pushing Jared who goes away easily, laughing.

"That was an eighth I just put in your pocket there." 

The tail end of his morning buzz is still lingering under his rapidfire heartbeat, and he can't think of anything better than taking Jared home with him, sharing a few bowls, and making out lazily on the couch. Maybe doing that as often as possible. Because Jensen's a lazy fucking stoner, for sure, but he thinks that Danneel's right, the (well, pseudo, it'd probably be more problematic otherwise) dealer to boyfriend transition doesn't seem like it'd be so hard, and the way Jared's smiling at him hopefully and catches his wrist to tug him breathlessly out the library's double doors makes him think Jared will make it a hell of a lot easier than that.


End file.
